A Christmas Seduction: A Regency Anthology (20 page)

His eyes narrowed. “It was frozen.”

“Was it?”

“Yes, as you damned well know since you pushed me into it shortly after you set me on fire.”

“You’ll forgive me if the memory’s fuzzy, I was quite traumatized. Gracious, I nearly swooned when you started screaming like a little girl.”

“I did not.” He raised his voice, then pinched his nose and seemed to count out loud to three. “I merely yelled.”

“Shocking, that you’re still able to speak after all that…” She paused adding with a menacing smile. “…yelling.”

“And to think.” Jack tilted his head, his icy blue eyes flashing. “I walked all this distance to offer up a truce.”

She peered around him. “My, my, you must be parched. What is it? Thirty paces from the second potted plant you were seducing with your drunken banter?”

“Yes.” Jack nodded, stealing the cider directly from her outstretched hand. “Parched.” He tossed it back and then placed the empty cup back into her fingers. “Be a dear and serve me another?”

She scowled into the cup. “I’m not a maid.”

“Pity.” He grinned wolfishly. “I imagine the best thing for you would be a little discipline…”

“Oh?” Warmth spread across her chest before she could stop it. He would
not
get the best of her, not this time. “And you think you’re just the man to carry out such a task?”

“Is that a challenge?” he whispered, nearly brushing his body against hers as she took a few steps backward only to note that a wall was keeping her from a safe escape. “I do so love those.”

“Yes, I’m sure all of London is aware of your little bets about raindrops and horses.”

“One time.” He rolled his eyes. “And I was foxed. You can hardly blame me for betting on such nonsensical things while in my cups.”

“You do many nonsensical things when you are in your cups. I’m shocked you’re able to function at all.”

“God,
you
make a man want to drink, Sara.”

She let out a little gasp. “Cease from using my name in public.”

“What about in private?” He smelled like cider and burnt wood, the good kind, the kind that made her feel warmer than necessary as he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “What may I call you then?”

“Your seduction is completely wasted on me, Jack.”

“Another challenge?”

“Truth.” She nodded, though her body begged her to arch into him. “I refuse to make the same mistake twice.”

He pulled back and frowned, as if confused.”I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t.” She needed to escape. Fast. Without a second glance, she sidestepped him and disappeared into the crowd.

CHAPTER THREE

J
ACK’S FROWN STAYED FROZEN
on his face throughout the waltz and even into the quadrille. Well over fifty guests were attending the Christmas Eve ball. Many, available young girls with their hearts set on a holiday romance.

Typically, he’d set about giving them their hearts’ desires. Never let it be said that Jack Mayford didn’t spread himself around in order to offer up holiday cheer.

But this Christmas felt different.

He was different.

Twisted up inside, as if with his merely exchanging a few words with Sara, she’d managed to find all the most important parts of him and twist them around until he was nothing but a confused knot of fury.

What the devil did she mean? Twice?

As if she’d given him a chance once?

Hah! The mere idea was laughable! He’d kissed her three years ago, proclaimed his undying love and affection, only to have the little chit march right out of his life for good.

It had been a Christmas ball in the country, not as extravagant as the one he was currently attending, but still.

Who needed extravagance when one looked the way Sara did?

He smiled at the memory then scowled as his muddled head reminded him that she was the enemy.

Foe, not friend. Never friend.

His chest ached.

Again.

And the memory, the one he’d tried so desperately to push back into the furthest recess of his mind, sprang forth, leaving him completely defenseless.

“Sara.” He whispered her name reverently as she twirled over and over again with one of his brothers. She had just turned seventeen.

And she was a complete vision.

At one and twenty, he’d finally been given his inheritance, though he hadn’t a clue what to do with it. He had enough money to quite literally sit the rest of his days without lifting a finger.

But idle hands were of the devil.

He knew that well, considering his very idle hands had a devil of a time not reaching out and pulling her against his hard body, taking her lips between his and making promises a man his age had trouble keeping.

Forever — being one of them.

She giggled again, her nearly white-blonde curls bouncing at the nape of her neck as she let out another laugh.

The dance ended.

And as luck would have it, she was facing him.

“Jack?” She tilted her head. “I know that look.” Her head shook as if she was enjoying a joke at his expense. “You have a mind to put a frog in my bed don’t you? Well, I’ll have you know that I’ve locked all windows and doors, you’ll have to die and become a Christmas ghost in order to gain entry.”

He tapped his chin with his fingertips. “The idea does have merit, tell me how would you kill me?”

“Oh, I love this game.” She giggled, slipping her arm through his. “The many ways to kill Jackson Mayford!”

“Delicious, you know that sounds like a book title?”

“Ah you’ve discovered my secret, dear Jack. I mean to write a book about all of your weaknesses and then publish it. Truly, I’d be doing women everywhere a favor.”

“And what about me?” He acted hurt as he pressed a hand to his chest. “I’ll be a complete outcast.”

“Never fear. I’ll wait until you’re dead first,” She said with a cheerful pat of her hand.

“Oh.” He nodded encouragingly, “That completely sets my mind at ease. Do go on.”

They walked down the poorly lit hall to their designated spot near the bottom of the second stairway. During Christmas, one could see the maze through the large windows. Mistletoe was as always placed above the entry to the large house.

“Spiders,” she finally announced.

Jackson stopped walking. “Pardon?”

“You don’t have many fears, but I believe the fact that you nearly collided with a wall last time you saw a spider gave you away.”

“Nonsense.” Jackson shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I was merely getting out of its line of fire, just in case it decided to launch itself into the air towards my face. Really, Sara, it’s all I have going for me, my face, whatever would I do if I was scarred for life?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’d manage.”

“I think not. After all, I’m known for dimples more than my quick wit. Such a shame, for I think I’ve been making so much progress.”

She let out a little giggle then led him to the stairs. “Spiders in your bed?”

“Bloody hell, woman, say bed again and I won’t be able to keep myself from carrying you upstairs.”

“Nice try, you’re still not getting into my room.”

“Damn it.”

Another laugh bubbled out of her. “Tsk, tsk, such language in front of a girl.”

“Lady,” he corrected with a small bow towards her body. He released her hand and walked over toward the large door leading out into the maze.

With his back to her, he couldn’t see her approach.

But he felt her.

He always felt her.

“I love Christmas,” she whispered from his right. He risked a glance from the corner of his vision. Her bright eyes twinkled as she smiled at the ice. She smiled at the ice the way he wanted her to smile at him.

Without saying a word, he reached for her hand and simply held it.

He’d been toying with the idea of courting her for the past year. Though they only saw each other on the holidays now that they were older, it seemed to fit. After all, the children of the families were almost always at odds, but that was what happened when three little boys were placed in an enclosed space with three, hellion little girls.

Chaos.

Though he’d grown to thrive off of the bickering.

Yes, Jackson knew his heart would most likely break if he went another day without a biting word from Sara — or a smile. Either would do, for he treasured them both.

“Jack,” Sara called his attention back from the maze. Her eyes were downcast, staring at their palms pressed against one another.

Slowly, Jack moved his other hand to her hip, sliding his gloved fingertips across her ribs, tugging her small body against his.

Her eyes searched his.

He wanted this.

He wanted her.

And he was damned tired of fighting. War was fine — but he wanted the other half — the love with the war, and the only woman he would have that with would be Sara. He knew it.

“This will change everything,” she whispered as his mouth lingered near hers.

“Perhaps.” His voice was shaky. Why was his voice shaky? ”But some changes are for the better.”

“Yes.” She breathed out the answer with a sigh as she curled her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his.

Holy God, she tasted like heaven.

Her lips tasted like sweet cider and sunshine. He licked the seam, gaining entry with his tongue as he slowly drew out a languid kiss that had his knees weakening and his morals cheerfully nose diving right out the window.

Sara let out a breathy moan as she tangled her hands in his curly hair.

He lifted her off the ground and swung her around, memorizing her taste, the velvet softness of her tongue as she met him kiss for kiss, pleasure for pleasure.

“Ahem.” A throat cleared.

He stumbled back, dropping Sara to her slippered feet.

“What is this?” The Duchess of Ashbury demanded an answer, but Jackson really didn’t have one, too shocked, and dumbfounded from that kiss, all he could do was stare at her. For he knew it wasn’t done.

Kissing a green girl in the dark shadows.

Kissing an innocent girl, regardless of his intentions, could ruin her, and the very last thing he wanted to do was ruin Sara.

Thankfully, he’d planned for everything and foolishly had been ready to do anything to gain a kiss, so he’d put mistletoe in his pocket.

With a smile, he swiftly pulled it free from his waistcoat and held it out. “It fell, but rules are rules, though we may have gotten carried away.”

The lie fell easily from his lips.

The duchess offered a stern expression then muttered, “Well, it is Christmas Eve.” And sauntered off.

Jackson exhaled a curse and turned to offer Sara an apology, but she had slipped away.

The very next day he went in search of her, only to find out she was already gone, their family had been called away on Christmas Day.

Weeks later, he searched for her at a ball, desperate to convey his affections, but he was trapped by a widowed seductress hell-bent on becoming his mistress — she’d accosted him with her mouth so hard he nearly gained a bruise from her mouth.

By the time he rejoined the ball, Sara was already dancing with someone else, and when he approached her later…

The cut direct.

“So, this is war,” he whispered, more to himself than anything. There was no love, not where she was concerned.

It was a kiss.

A kiss he read into entirely too much, for he wanted to offer for more than her hand — but her heart.

Jack was nothing but a kiss.

A tempting kiss in the shadows.

He took a look around the ballroom as people danced and laughed, suddenly sick to his stomach, he averted his eyes, and stomped away from the merriment. Away from the memories attached to it.

Away from it all.

Because of Sara.

It was always because of Sara.

CHAPTER FOUR

S
ARA WAS IN A
foul mood, and after sparring with Jackson, the ball had lost all its holiday wonder, for when she looked at the smiling faces, the laughter, the dancing, all she was reminded of was the one boy who had kissed her with the lips of forever.

And claimed it a Christmas game.

She swallowed the lump in her throat then pressed her fingertips to her lips. At least she’d been kissed well.

There was that.

Dratted man! How dare he ruin her for every other man! Because that was what Jack
did
. He ruined things, shattered fragile china into a million sharp pieces then stomped his shiny Hessians right over them just to be sure there was nothing left but dust.

She saw the promise in his eyes, had known it was coming, his offer for courtship. After all, that was the logical step to take between them. They might be the youngest of the six, but they’d always been forced to stick together, while everyone else fought.

They stole brandy from the pantry.

Cheroots from the study.

And yes, at one point, lit Jack on fire. But the man had panicked! Therefore she had panicked.

“I believe,” came Jackson’s deep voice. “That you set me on fire, near that very tree.” He pointed to the tree near the maze.